


punctured lungs and pretty eyes

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Dominant Armitage Hux, Dysfunctional Relationships, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Injuries, Porn with Feelings, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Power Bottom Armitage Hux, Power Dynamics, Service Top Kylo Ren, Submissive Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Throne Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 10:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19332598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Every boy needs a daddy. Even if said boy is Supreme Leader of the First Order, and said daddy is his long-suffering, resentful general.





	punctured lungs and pretty eyes

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a weird fic. I kind of don't really like it, I think I fucked up the direction I wanted to take it in, but I also wasn't feeling up to rewriting it. So...it is what it is. 
> 
> I might try to write a power bottom daddy Hux again someday, with a little more....levity. And actually decent porn not riddled with angst and dysfunction.

General Hux received a communication that the Supreme Leader had returned from his excursion to Roliv II just as he was about to retire for the evening. He let out a tight sigh, staring at the blinking notification on the little screen and wondering if he should just ignore it. He could always blame it on a glitch in the system if questioned later. Then again, testing the Supreme Leader’s patience as of late hadn’t worked out especially well for him. Best to tread with caution and not flaunt direct orders, just in case his counsel was needed for something important.

So with a scowl and a toss of his greatcoat back about his shoulders, Hux forwent his plans for a relatively relaxed evening in—paperwork and warm tea, always a heartening combination—and stalked away from his quarters towards the throne room, where he and Ren usually conducted most of their business these days.

Hux strode through the hallways, chin held high and shoulders rolled back. The dusky landscape passed outside the horizontal windows lining each wall, sky pockmarked with the lighted wingtips of fighters taking off and landing and patrolling the perimeter.  

Hux was still adjusting to solid ground. There was a natural cadence and predictability to life aboard a star destroyer or similar such crafts that he found lacking here, on a planet at the edge of Wild Space, where Kylo Ren had decided to station his permutation of the First Order. Ichyria, a no-name place of lush but empty wilderness given significance only thanks to Ren’s impulsive decisions. Like all the other recent changes somewhat non-consensually made to his life, it was going to taken some time to get used to. Hux wasn’t sure if he'd ever favor it over the relative mobility and plasticity of his old life, but—for now, it was what it was. Even if he didn't like it, missing ceaseless cycles as opposed to stark nights and days, he’d adapt.

But not everything was so tolerable. Hux would better be able to deal with the change in setting and the slew of brand-new duties if things between himself and the Supreme Leader weren’t so uncomfortably _strained_. It really put a damper on all the Order’s recent victories.

Ever since Crait, he and Ren had kept their distance whenever they had the chance. Hux, out of rage and self-preservation, Ren—well, he didn’t really know why _Ren_ hadn’t just continued taking what he wanted from him and using his body for more demeaning stress relief. Part of Hux wanted to think Ren avoided him out of guilt, realizing his folly in abusing the man who was for all intents and purposes his second-in-command, but then again Hux wasn’t so sure such a monster could even _feel_ remorse any longer. Perhaps, he found himself wondering late into the night, Ren had finally succeeded in killing all emotions after all, once his little stunt with the scavenger girl had failed. Maybe he had at last stripped away all remnants of his soft and human exterior until there was nothing left but a pulsating core, red and irradiated with power and rage.

His new throne room certainly suggested that.

It was a far cry from Snoke’s old chamber aboard the Supremacy, shielded from the rest of the ship by ultimately flimsy curtains of red, more like a sort of lavish, saturated bordello than a seat of power, though Hux had never voiced such concerns. In contrast Ren’s gypryst throne lay primarily bathed in darkness, floor glossy black and walls ragged and speckled, almost cave-like, though Hux knew they’d be smooth as the rest of the chamber if he were to put his hand to it. Far above Ren’s throne, a glistening glass oculus cut into the thick stone and opened a single circle of light into the room. As the sun fell—changed, bled red—it would shift across the floor, ultimately rising to glow atop the Supreme Leader’s head like an ephemeral crown before vanishing completely against the wide tapestry dominating the far wall.

It was late in the evening, so nothing brightened the chamber save for the rusty glimmer of the oblong lighting inlaid in the floor and ceiling, guiding a dual path to the throne where Ren sat, legs spread, elbow rested on a blocky armrest and fingers grasping at his chin. He scratched his stubble and glared at the approaching general.

“Leave us,” Ren commanded, voice a sinister reverb against the shimmering walls. The red-clad trooper guards flanking his throne filed out together, no doubt sharing the same thought—that their Supreme Leader had finally decided to execute the wily general for his treachery, usefulness outweighed by flagrant insubordination.

But Ren didn't throttle Hux or run him through with the saber at his belt. He relaxed. He didn’t even realize that he’d tensed up so much from just walking into the room.

“You wished to speak with me, Supreme Leader?” Hux spoke up when Ren remained silent, making no move to do anything but watch as Hux walked to a halt before his throne. He snorted heavily through his nose, as if agitated by Hux’s question, but when he did respond he sounded flat-effect and restrained, as if forcing emotion out of his voice in an attempt to deal with his obvious stress.  

“I’ve toured the new arms facility on Roliv II. The overseers want to know our plans for future productions of their prototype.”

Ren’s spoke firmly but dropped his usual volume, failing to fill the emptiness in the throne room. It yawned all around them, walls seeming more distant than Hux knew they were, making him feel even more conscious of the fact that nobody but him and Ren occupied it.

“We’re still field-testing the initial designs and compiling records of potential adjustments. Once we know more fully what their models are capable of when it comes to combat, we’ll be able to better determine how many we need to fortify our ground troops.”

Ren slid his fingers back through his hair, drawing it out of his eyes. They looked red-rimmed, like he hadn’t gotten much sleep lately.

“Alright. Well, I need for you to address that, they wanted a prompt reply. Come up with some general estimates and relay them to the facility as soon as possible so they’ll be satisfied.”

Ren was to the point, at least, despite his apparent stress. Lately any debriefing between them played out in this same fashion—purely professional, almost clinical in its process. Reminiscent of how he and Ren used to conference with Snoke, back before he decided to throw them both around in his rage.

_Seemed that Ren had inherited more than just his Master’s position._

Still, Hux furrowed his brow at his tone. It was honestly a little off-putting, to see Ren so tired and unemotional. Hux was used to a far more passionate version of Ren, for better or for worse, but he tried not to dwell on the change unduly. It was _good_ , wasn’t it, that Ren didn’t snap and throw him into the walls of his chamber whenever their conquests hit a snag. He’d rather endure dull conversation than more broken bones and bruised breathing.  

“Will there be anything else, Supreme Leader?” Hux replied, wondering why Ren needed to summon him for such a minuscule report. Surely such instructions could be transmitted via commlink with little fuss—Hux already knew the mechanization facility would require further input before they could mass-produce the quantities of troops the Order would require to snuff out the last gasps of rebellion.

Ren grumbled in response, as if already tuning him out. Hux tried not to bristle and say something he might regret, and merely bowed his head in compliance.

“Well, then. If there’s nothing left to discuss, I’d rather take my leave, considering the lateness of the hour.” It was hard to keep the bitterness out of his tongue when his patience with the Supreme Leader already waned so thin. Hux realized he was playing with fire if he didn’t watch his tone, or keep his thoughts free of disloyalty and dismissiveness, but sometimes his exasperation reaches its tipping point. It was usually when he teetered at the brink that Hux excused himself, but as he took a step back to exit the room, Ren suddenly sat up in his throne.

“Wait,” he barked, and Hux did. His face stiffened in annoyance.

“Yes? What is it?”

Ren’s fingers slid against the armrests of his chair, drumming atop them. His cheek bulged slightly, as if working his tongue around within and thinking.

“Stay with me,” he finally replied, and Hux nearly laughed, amusement pitching his voice up.

“What? Why would you need me to stay with you? Supreme Leader, if there’s no more business between us, then I mustn’t linger.” Hux tried to take his leave again, under the assumption Ren was only toying with him because he could do it now without fear of reproach, when he called out again—this time fainter, tension replaced by uncertain desire.

“Please, _daddy_.”

Hux froze. His hair stood on end and his eyes widened. He stayed turned away from Ren in order to hide his expression, despite knowing the Supreme Leader could no doubt sense the usual focus in his thoughts wavering. He could never hide anything from Ren any longer. 

“What was that?” Hux hoped he might have only misheard. He turned around but not all the way, scanning Ren out of the corner of his eye. He must've noticed it, because Ren suddenly looked a little eager. He sat on the edge of his seat and licked his lips with nervous expectation.

“I said,” Ren paused to take a barely bated breath, before rising from his throne, “please stay with me, _daddy_.”

Hux certainly didn’t mishear that time, but it still felt surreal to have that word spoken aloud once again.

“Ren…” Hux started before he even fully knew how to formulate his response. Hux looked the Supreme Leader up and down, from the subtly shifting weight in his boots to the way his cloak curls defensively about him, to the face that so easily allowed emotions roil to the surface. Despite standing to his full height Ren looked _small_ , irrespective of the inches he lorded over Hux and his incomparable breadth. His shoulder sloped downwards, head slightly hung forward on his neck. His hand lifted halfway before faltering, clenching into an unsteady fist. Suddenly, so unsure of himself, like the very emptiness of the air around him made him anxious.

Hux hadn’t seen Ren like this in some time, and hadn’t heard him say _that_ in even longer.

Few knew of the history he and Ren had, and even those with an inkling as to what they got up to in private most likely would’ve never guessed the nature of the finer, stranger details. They’d dipped into this kind of role play accidentally thanks to Ren’s loose lips and Hux’s willingness to indulge him and then, after that first time, only on occasion. With a war to wage and a volatile Master to please, there hadn’t been much time for sexual dalliances—especially ones of such unusual origin, and _especially_ in the wake of the Resistance assault on Starkiller.

Hux honestly half-expected that Ren had forgotten all of that, more preoccupied with the power he held over Hux than any affection that clung on, gasping for life. Apparently, that wasn’t the case, though Hux knew better than to take anything at face value when it came to Ren. He’d seen him deceive others with guilt and vulnerability before.

So instead of responding right away Hux studied Ren, suspicion tightening in the corners of his eyes, wondering whether this was a ploy. He could very well imagine Ren trying to pull such a dirty trick, meant to draw sympathy out of Hux’s withered well of understanding and bring his loyalties back from the brink. But when he finally decided to meet Ren’s gaze, to scour them for the wicked treachery he knew must lie in wait, he found them unexpectedly earnest. Almost _needy_.

Almost like how he used to be.

Ren had always craved guidance, ever since the beginning—guidance even his all-powerful but emotionally detached Master couldn’t provide. Because indeed, Snoke had aimed to _kill_ that boyishness inside of Ren, force him to cast away the trappings of innocence and humanity and transform him into an unfeeling weapon, little more than a hateful conduit of the Force.

But Hux? Hux had _savored_ it. Deep within the privacy of their quarters, with Ren shielding their minds from his Master, he’d watch him fall apart and lie completely bared for Hux to drink in. Divesting himself of the trickery of his helmet and the hindrance of clothing and beg for undoing, for release. And Hux had indulged him, always relishing in the knowledge that deep down, the implacable, invincible Kylo Ren was still nothing more than a _boy_ in need of a father’s firm hand. Desperate for praise and affection, no matter what Hux demanded from him as a price.

Hux thought that boy had died. Cut open and left to freeze to death on the collapsing tundra of Starkiller. Burnt up into nothingness within Snoke’s throne room. Shed violently upon the shifting red and white salts of Crait. Strangled by the dark duties and corrupting throne of _Supreme Leader_.

But he’d been here, hibernating, all this time.

And now he stood, palms turned out in offering, waiting for Hux to respond. Fingers twitching with barely concealed need, and Hux—he couldn’t forget the last time they’d twitched, with annoyance and violence, squeezing breath from his throat or breaking his ribs against a console. Even at rest, as he tried to inhale eveningly beneath the weave of his uniform, Hux could feel a twinge in his chest.

He’d waited too long after Crait to seek attention for his injuries, far too humiliated to limp to the medical bay after Ren made a fool of him—not to mention distracted by the recovery effort regarding the Supremacy and the rest of their crippled fleet. Even two reconstructive surgeries and plenty of rest and bacta immersion later, every medic he consulted told him the bones wouldn’t ever return to their previous strength. One wrong fall or unexpected jab to the side could break a shard of Hux’s ribs into his lung and end it all.

“You want me to stay?” His voice edged on a jeer. Ren had ruined him inside and out, yet wanted Hux to stay by his side, to _comfort_ him as if Ren hadn’t desecrated their relationship with his own two hands and left Hux’s feelings scorched and barren _._ For a moment Hux reconsiders spurning him. It would be no less than what he deserved for the harm he wreaked.

Yet those eyes, and the plaintive wobble in Ren’s lower lip, stopped Hux from turning on heel and striding out of the throne room in spite. So he finally faced the throne head-on, arms still held in parade rest behind him even as his fingers curled into repressed fists. He stared Ren down, feeling himself slip away from the unflappable general, and into a different role—softer, more intimate, but no less strict.

Hux held out his hand to Ren. “I’ll stay,” he stated, before curling it into a fist and jabbing a finger at the floor. “But only if you get on your knees, _boy_.”

Ren complied more quickly than Hux thought he would. He had expected more resistance as Hux challenged his newfound dominance, but instead Ren practically fell to the floor as if he’d only invisible strings had been giving him enough strength to wait out Hux’s decision. There was almost relief in his dark eyes, eyes Hux had tried to not seek any deeper meaning from lately out of the same fear that nagged at him now—that still searching for anything personally redeemable inside of Ren would be his ultimate undoing.

But even his better judgement couldn’t stop Hux from reaching out to the boy with his palm opened, tips of his fingers skating through the hair tumbling down the side of Ren’s face. His thumb brushed up against the boy’s closed mouth and rested there, letting soft, moist breath kiss the well-kept leather.

Ren parted his lips and after a moment of hesitation, flicked his tongue out to lick around Hux’s digit. Wanting to be touched more, he nuzzled against his offered hand.

“Good,” was all Hux said as he pressed his wet thumb into Ren’s mouth. Instantly he felt tongue lap at the fabric of his gloves. Ren’s lips closed around the tip, suckling like an infant, and though it was just one of his fingers Hux already shivered with want. It had been so long since he’d seen Ren so _obedient_. Reduced to such an instinctual state, so desperate for immediate pleasure that he would lavish attention even on the smallest, most insignificant portion of Hux he could get his mouth around.

He could put Ren’s lips and tongue to better use somewhere else, however. Hux's available digits skimmed beneath Ren’s chin and tilted it up, thumb pressed to the corner of his lip and stretching it out to show a peek of teeth.

“Daddy’s going to give you a far tastier treat than _that_ ,” Hux practically purred, engulfed in his domineering headspace. “And if you’re _really_ good, he’ll let you give him one of your own.”

Hux abruptly pulled his finger out of Ren’s mouth, stringing saliva down his chin. He walked right past the kneeling man and strode up to the throne, almost in awe at his own contemptuousness towards a man who could cripple his already injured body in a blink of an eye. But Ren wouldn’t do that, not when Hux had something he wanted. Not when Hux was the only one left in the galaxy who could relieve his troubled mind.

The soles of his booth _clacked_ against the lustrous floor, luring Ren after him. His own footfalls echoed obediently in time with Hux’s, and when he turned on the dais and sunk down into Ren’s grand, bespoke seat, the boy was practically right on top of him.

For a moment, he wondered if Ren was going to break the scene and toss him off the throne, too possessive over his status and rankled by Hux’s audacity to allow it. But no invisible vise crushed his throat or snapped his ribs, not even when Hux melded back against the grand seat like he belonged there and planted his boots firmly upon the floor. It was wide, built to fit Ren’s bulk and no one else’s—Hux could spread his legs so wide his pelvis cracked and still never hope to span its breadth—but even so he felt a surge of power as he sits upon it. The stone thrummed where it cradled his body, like a whisper of dark secrets. Vindication coursed through him but he felt unexpectedly heavy, like the throne might try to dig its claws into him if he tried to get back up. Was this how Ren felt at all times? The weight of the First Order, his hapless, damning lineage, the fate of the entire galaxy, all burdened upon on his shoulders?

Hux shed his greatcoat, letting it slide off his shoulders. He flicked out his hands, straightening the cuffs of his gloves with a smart tug each. Ren’s eyes flicked to the brief slip of creamy wrist before Hux again concealed it from view.

“What a terrible _burden_ , for such a lovely boy,” Hux shook his head with a sympathetic croon as Ren fell to his knees once again, right atop the dais beneath the sprawling throne. “Why don’t you let daddy shoulder it, for a little while?”

Ren nodded eagerly. It seemed Hux still served some use for him, even if it was just to help Ren forget about the daunting reality of the position he'd stolen. After being tossed about like a broken, useless toy on Crait, Hux had expected Ren to cast him off completely, perhaps even replace him with a new, less openly treacherous general. But apparently Ren had never shed some of his more pathetic weaknesses even with the unexpected promotion. Hux’s lips curled as Ren crawled between his spread knees. It wasn’t _ideal,_ he far preferred not getting his hands dirty. But considering the unpredictability that came with this new phase in his life, he’d hang onto any scrap of power he could.

After all, not just anybody could handle the Supreme Leader both at his worst, and at his _least_ —stripped of his dominance and cruelty, begging Hux to tether his lost mind to keep it from drifting off into complete madness and despair, to make him feel _safe_ and shielded beneath Hux’s careful hand and kind tongue. No other general, neither among the flabby ex-Imperials nor the sprightly subordinates eager for promotion, could provide for Ren like this. No one else could survive his tantrums long enough to witness the rare calm, the need to please at his core. 

Hux smirked as he moved his knee to nudge against Ren’s jaw, testing his pliancy. If anyone were to witness them now, they’d see just how unfit for the throne Ren was. How easily he’d bowed to his general the moment Hux agreed to this little game. Ren was no leader—he _needed_ an authority above him, someone to point his rage and strength in the right direction. Ren couldn’t handle the burden of ruling alone. He’d never be able to.

_He’d always come crawling back to his daddy._

Ren placed both hands at the edge of the throne, right between Hux’s legs like a dog begging for table scraps.

“Please…I want more,” he whined.

“Always such a greedy boy,” Hux shook his head, almost coyly stroking his chin. “Well? Have you earned your treat?”

Ren closed his eyes and nodded, a pleading moan working out of his throat. He almost looked distressed as he sat there, submissive before his own throne, hungering for Hux to shove his cock in his mouth.

In reality, Ren hadn’t earned it. He’d earned very little from Hux lately, _especially_ not sexual intimacy, but the boy’s pitiful expression was far too enthralling to resist. He groaned inwardly, at his own lack of restraint.

Hux leaned forward in the throne and swiped his finger along the seam of Ren’s lips, testing their softness, already envisioning them wrapped around the head of his cock. But mere imagination couldn’t satisfy him for long, so Hux unzipped his jodhpurs and slid his regulation briefs down low on his hips. He took the slim shaft of his cock in hand, working it to hardness before Ren’s doleful eyes. With the moon hanging in the sky right above them, the oculus emitted a faint glow, turning Ren’s skin an ethereal pale, accenting the tempting blush of his lips.

 _Stars_. Hux had forgotten how breathtaking he was like this.

Surely anyone of sound mind out there would agree that Ren was at his most beautiful when he looked lost. When he glanced to Hux for guidance, assurance. When he _needed_ Hux to show him the way to satisfy his most pressing, unspeakable desires he couldn’t achieve on his own. Shame he snatched the title of Supreme Leader from Hux’s fingertips—he thought Ren would be far better suited as a consort, dressed beautifully and kept as a submissive pet at his feet.  

Ren leaned in when Hux tilted his cock towards him, lips parted and eyes still gazing up at the general. He wanted _permission_ , Hux realized with a smirk. He gave his shaft a couple quick strokes, shivering underneath his uniform as pre-come built at the tip. Resisting the urge to jerk himself off onto Ren’s face, he draped his arms to the side and relaxed back against the throne.  

“Go on. Show daddy how much you appreciate what he’s done for you.”

Ren had a cavernous mouth, all wide tongue and warm, slick cheeks wrapping around Hux’s cock as it pushed inside and spread his lips apart. He could easily take him down to the root, slip the head of it down into his throat and let himself choke if it meant bringing Hux to new heights of pleasure. He put off knotting his fingers into Ren’s hair, at least for now, merely rolling his head luxuriantly on his neck as the mouth sheathing his cock started to move.

Ren’s hands gripped Hux’s knees as he sat up straighter and leaned forward, taking more of his shaft past his lips. His hair pooled in thick tendrils around his neck as it pulsed, already trying to swallow him all the way.

“Easy,” Hux warned softly, though it felt good to see Ren push himself in such an obscene fashion. He really wanted to please Hux, didn’t he? Supreme Leader of the First Order, one of the most powerful men in the galaxy—degrading himself on purpose, all for a taste his daddy’s cock.

Hux felt validated. These were the roles they were always meant to fill.

Ren bobbed his head up and down in Hux’s lap, working his tongue and lips over his shaft with little finesse, leaving plenty of saliva in his wake. Hux didn’t remember Ren being this clumsy, but it’d been a long while since he’d gone down on him. Perhaps his memory was faint—or perhaps Ren’s technique _was_ a little rusty. But the finer points of the blow job matter less than the pathetic little whines that trembled along his shaft as Ren tried his best to please his daddy. Like Hux’s regard could be as easily sucked out the tip of his cock as his come.

“Keep going, dearest.” Hux trailed his fingers through Ren’s hair, grabbing it near the back of his skull. “I know how much you enjoy your treats. Savor it...it’s been so long since you’ve tasted one.”

Hux was not necessarily light with the praise, though, even if it was insincere and done for show, only so Ren would prostrate himself even more beneath Hux’s authority. The words rolled easily off his tongue as he snapped his hips up off the throne, driving his cock further into Ren’s mouth, caught between the strange softness in his words and the relative aggression of his thrusts.

Hux wanted to bury his cock down Ren’s throat as he came but at the last moment changed his mind and pulled back, spilling out over his tongue and filling his mouth. He wound his fingers tighter into Ren’s hair as his orgasm quivered through his body, eyelids fluttering and tongue licking a quick, involuntary trail over his upper lip before he roughly pulled Ren off his cock. Hux half expected him to spit, dribble cum down his plump, reddened lips and onto the seat of his own throne, but Ren dutifully kept his mouth clamped shut. He met Hux’s eyes, his own watering.

Stars he looked so _perfect_ , so submissive and feeble. So eager to satisfy Hux more, even with his mouth already filled with cum.

Ren’s throat trembled with the force of his pulse. Hux could tell he wanted to swallow so he waved his finger, pointing to his lips.

“ _Ah-ah_. Show me first.”

After a moment of hesitation, Ren opened his mouth. He curled the tip of his tongue up towards his palate, trying to keep the cum pooled there from spilling out. However he trembled too much to manage that, and a little bit trickled over his lower lip. Still, Hux was fairly satisfied, and most of all impatient to move on. He cupped the underside of Ren’s chin and pushed his mouth closed. His skin rubbed up against his gloves, slightly unshaven. Poor dear needed some grooming.

“Good boy. You can swallow, now.” Ren held it in his mouth for a moment longer, savoring, before his throat clenched obediently. He parted his lips once he swallowed, showing off deceptively unsullied pink to Hux’s enticed eyes. Ren panted softly, the only sound in the vast throne room apart from the eager throb of Hux’s pulse, synchronizing with that radiating from within the throne.

Ren tried to get up but Hux’s eyebrows shot towards his hairline in amusement. He planted the toe of one boot against his burly shoulder and pushed back, just a bit. Ren froze _instantly_ at the touch, all at once arrested by a fear of punishment or rejection.

“You ask _permission_ , boy,” Hux snapped, forcing severity into his voice despite his glee at Ren’s compliance. “Or have you forgotten your manners so quickly? Must I refresh your memory? Or perhaps _discipline_ you?”

Ren looked mortified, almost like he might cry. Beneath the quilted fabric of his tunic he trembled even harder, causing his head to shake slightly.

“No daddy, please, I haven’t forgotten. Can I get up?” Ren _asked_ this time, as politely as Hux could expect from him, so he relented and beckoned him with a finger and a rewarding smile.

“Come here.”

Ren surged to his feet too fast and practically fell on top of Hux, hem of his cape draping over both sides of the throne and encasing it completely in an embrace that would feel dangerous, if the general didn’t wield full control over the situation. He stopped Ren’s hands as they tried to grab his waist, dissuading him with a tight squeeze to the wrist. Much as a part of Hux would love to let Ren loose and ravish him with all his strength, the words of his medics still rung in his ears. With the scars of his injuries still fresh and never to fade, he wasn’t as hardy as he once was.

“Daddy’s had a rough time of it lately, boy,” Hux said, turning his harsh grip around Ren’s wrist into a gentle stroke up his forearm,” do you think you can make him feel even better?”

Ren nodded. “ _Yes_ , please, I want to,” he started, but Hux quickly cut him off with a hush. Ren knew this wasn’t about what _he_ wanted, but what he could do for his daddy. So he quieted, looking to Hux with a chastised glisten in his eyes, awaiting a command.

They could go about it any number of ways. He could push Ren back against the throne and straddle him, ride his cock long into the night, or he could let Ren do the same to him. Remaining seated seemed like a _very_ nice idea, yet Hux wanted above all to feel his needy boy come inside of him.

“Daddy wants your cock,” Hux chose with a croon, trailing his nail tips down the side of Ren’s face, feeling him shiver at the tease. “Your big, _thick_ cock is the only thing that can fill him properly. If you really want him to feel better, you'll fuck your daddy as hard as you can.”

Ren made a strange noise, erection bulging in his pants. Probably already wet and leaking into his briefs, with how tightly wound he was. In this state of mind Hux knew he could force him to stand stock still, holding back his command and making Ren suffer his own straining arousal. Alas, Hux didn’t think he could hold back much longer either.

Similarly, he hadn’t the interest nor the tools to prepare himself as much as he usually would. Part of him was tempted to let Ren go in dry—a little discomfort feeling appropriate. In compromise he reached up to again slick a finger in Ren’s mouth, rubbing it against his eager tongue. Ren leaned after him as Hux pulled it away, following the wet fingertip with his eyes as it brushed up between the general’s spread legs. Hux circled a trail of saliva around his hole once he slide down his undergarments, resting on his tailbone so Ren could see and salivate.

He stuck the tip in—a cursory stretch, for Ren’s sake more than his own—ignoring for now how he was dirtying his glove. Ren shuddered, gaze fixed on the spot as Hux worked the finger inside. His large hands twitched with temptation, and Hux felt the air around them simmer with energy. He paused, breath in his throat for a brief moment as flashes of the incident on Crait skirted before his eyes—but just as quickly as it flared up the touch abated, retreating back into Ren to wait for proper permission.

Hux didn’t hesitate long, barely able to keep his own need at bay. He sat back as far as he could in the chair and spread his legs in an invitation Ren quickly took, gripping the underside of Hux’s thighs and forcing them up. With the raised throne, it took only a slight adjustment for Ren to finally push his cock inside of Hux.

The stretch burned. Hux had almost forgotten just how thick Ren was, and _long_ , and everything a good satisfying cock should be, with a warmth and throb even the most expensive dildos couldn’t replicate. It filled Hux to the brim as it slid inside, Ren forgetting or not caring to ease in gradually until his hips were already pressed up against his ass.

The swift breach made Hux grunt, and he almost thought to admonish Ren for his haste but he started up a pace almost right away, driving Hux into the back of the throne and rocking him in his seat.

One leg braced against Ren’s shoulder, the other lazily curled around his hip. It spread Hux’s pelvis at an awkward angle, but any discomfort quickly vanished as Ren’s cock rocked roughly inside of him. Hux groaned and tilted his head back, toes clenching in his boots at the pressure. It had been awhile—both with Ren and on his own. Not too much time to tend to personal pleasures when he was helping to restructure the Order and chase down the dregs of the Resistance, after all.

Whines punctuated Hux's panting as Ren humped him, hardly thrusting his cock in and out as much as rolling it, like a ship buffeted by radiating explosions. It didn’t quite reach the depths Hux knew Ren was capable of but for now it was _enough_ , his entire body still tingling from the first orgasm coupled with his captivation at Ren’s submissiveness. Hux raked his fingers against the armrests of the throne, grounding himself as Ren slavishly rubbed their bodies together.

“You’re so good for daddy, baby. So very good. Give him more, more, everything you have,” Hux moaned as Ren mouthed against his throat, still shallowly thrusting like a senseless beast with only breeding thoughts in its stupid skull. Only in these scenes, when Ren was so sweet and impressionable, does he dare let such foolishly soft praise pass through his lips. It was all performance, after all. And showing Ren even the smallest kindness made him even more _desperate_ in this state, with his sorry, compromised mind allowing all kinds of delusions to take root.

Hux tilted his head back to give Ren more room to kiss his throat, lips curling in a sneer. As if anyone could ever truly love such an irreparably _hateful_ monster.

As Ren drove his cock into Hux and pushed himself even closer to the general he accidentally knocked his knee against the edge of the throne, drawing out a tight gasp of pain. He faltered slightly in his thrusts, wincing.

“Don’t hurt yourself, dearest,” Hux purred against Ren’s temple as his hands slid over his bulky shoulders, grasping tight, “daddy doesn’t want you harmed. He wants you safe, a kept boy. You _are_ my kept boy, aren’t you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Ren rasped, nodding profusely like it was the only other higher movement he could muster. “Yours. All yours.” He picked up the pace again, spurred by Hux's gentle encouragement. 

It almost hurt to hear how hopelessly sincere he sounded. So much so that Hux almost believed him—too bad he knew the truth. That deep down, Ren _wasn’t_ his and would never truly belong to him again. Ren would never lower himself nor relinquish his newfound power, but it was easy enough to accept his devotion with the buffer of fantasy surrounding them—they weren’t Supreme Leader Kylo Ren and General Hux right now, after all, they were a boy and his _daddy_ , the maelstrom of rage and insecurity and the hand and steady voice keeping it from destroying the entire galaxy. Though Hux wouldn’t have let Ren back into his bed after Crait, he’d let his _boy_ take his fill, degrade himself for just a taste of the affection and pleasure he used to know. The man fucking into Hux wasn’t the same one who had tried to choke the life out of him and stole the position he’d sought for so long, who irrevocably damaged his body and dignity—it was his cherished, little lost soul, merely seeking someone strong to shoulder his burdens and chase all the nightmares away.   

Hux could almost _relax_ like this and trust in the obedient, hypnotic roll of Ren’s hips—but then something, something _tense_ and ruinous started to build around him with each thrust, starting deep in the pit of Ren’s throat and growing with intensity, with sudden clarity. Hux didn’t even understand the exact words Ren was speaking at first, just one of many noises blending in a harmony of lust in his ears. By the time it swelled to a point where Hux could pick out what Ren was actually saying, it was too late to stop it from crashing over him.

“Daddy,” Ren choked on a thrust, voice torn with remorse, “forgive me. _Forgive me._ ”

Hux startled, blinking rapidly, _sure_ he hadn’t heard that. He pulled his lips away from the side of Ren’s head and stared at him. Was this some kind of joke at his expense? He _knew_ Ren. Ren would never apologize, not even enveloped in a debilitated frame of mind.

“What are you—” Hux began, only to cut off in a tight groan as Ren’s cock pushed deep enough to spike fresh pleasure up his spine. He curled his leg around Ren’s hip and dug the heel of his boot into his back, heartbeat racing but failing to deafen the sudden spill of apologies gushing from Ren’s lips.

“Daddy,” he whimpered, hips rutting senselessly against Hux’s rear. His eyes were glassy, mind snared in a trance. “I’m sorry, daddy. Please, _please_. Can you f-forgive me?”

Hux shook his head, responding less to Ren’s request then the whole unwelcome shift in the dynamic. This was much more than he agreed to. This was _different_. Ren was breaching the comfortable barrier set up between them, brazen in his need, willfully wrecking illusion of the fantasy that tidied their far more unpleasant reality.

“Ren, I—” Hux grabbed his shoulders tighter, fingernails biting through his sleeves, uncertain whether he was trying to pull him in or push him away and ultimately unable to do either. Clinging on with both arms and legs was all he can manage as the entire, mighty throne shook on its foundation with the force of Ren’s distress.

“Please daddy, say something, please. Say you forgive me,” Ren upped the pace, fucking into Hux harder and less steadily. The general gritted his teeth around his whimpers, fingers dragging over Ren’s pleated sleeve as he struggled to keep hold of it.

“ _Stop_ ,” Hux gasped, knocking his head back against the throne. Strands of hair fell over his forehead, clinging with sweat. _No_ , enough. He couldn’t deal with this. All wrong. Ren was—he wasn’t supposed to _say_ things like this while inhabiting the state of mind Hux could actually _trust_ him in. Ren was supposed to feel nothing more than crude pleasure, seek nothing but reward for his obedience. Beg and cry and plead, yes, but for simple things, things Hux could actually grant him.

 _Ren wasn’t supposed to ask for his forgiveness_.

Hux scrambled for his composure, his mantle of dominance, even as Ren continued to pound into him with increasingly unhinged abandon, scraping at the careful disparity Hux had wedged between them. He writhed, unable to escape.

“ _Please_ , daddy!” Ren all but screamed, his voice rebounding violently off the walls of the throne room, shaking the air with his desperation. “I c-can’t do this, not alone _,_ please forgive me—I _need_ you—”

Ren heaved against Hux’s ear, warm wet breath misting, invading.

“— _I need you to forgive me._ ”

“I—” Hux groaned suddenly as Ren finally pulled out all the way and drove back in with violent force. Hux felt the full drag of his cock as it rammed up against his prostate,  pushing him into a free-fall over the edge. The pleasure hit Hux like a blow to the chest, each jut of console buttons and knobs a memory, and it _hurt_ and he wheezed, unable to think or respond for all the confused sensation as his legs clamped around Ren and he came all over his hips.

Ren filled him with a grunt and one last thrust, shallow and primal again, release spilling forth to coat Hux’s insides. His hulking body fell apart with his orgasm, crumpling over the throne. Hux felt dazed, unable to move without his tender ribs smarting, without his spent cock twitching. Sitting undone like this in Ren’s throne, he was too vulnerable, yet the bulk of the man trembling with similar feelings above him wouldn’t let him hide.

Ren dragged his fingers down the back of the throne, clawing his nails into the carved inscriptions Hux never bothered to translate. His hair hung down in sweaty strands around his face, swaying as his hips slowly ground to a halt and lost their mindless intensity. His lower lip stuck out, wet and trembling slightly. A strange urge to kiss it trickled through Hux, but just as he let it win over Ren reared away with a tight breath, as if Hux had finally gathered the courage to reflect the violence he'd inflicted back against him—to strike him between the ribs, and deepen the wounds in his injured heart.

Hux remembered then that he’d never responded to Ren’s question.

“You’re…” He rasped, even as Ren rocked back onto his feet, trying to regain his balance and thrust himself back into his clothing at the same time. Hux still sat splayed out on the throne with cum leaking out over the uncomfortable, runic seat, too loose and aching to correct his posture to something more respectable even as Ren eased his legs back down and drew his hands away. Touch now wilting, curling inwards at the edges. Rebuked, and a little embarrassed about his behavior.

“You can leave,” Ren commanded with little strength, yanking his pants up over his hips and fastening them. Hux stared, immobilized, feeling little apart from dense tingling in his head and body as he struggled to come back to himself. Gradually, he lifted his hands up from the armrests, palms turned upwards. Ren’s expression trembled as it tried to flatten back into stoicism, moist gaze lifting to meet Hux’s. After a tense moment, he grunted mournfully and closed his eyes, surging forward into his general’s arms.

At the end of it all, Hux couldn’t muster a proper answer—not now, not after such intense, bewildering pleasure, not as he petted Ren’s hair and let him sob against his shoulder and permit weakness and delusion, for a moment. Deep down, below the smarting in his ribs and satisfaction uncoiling in his loins there was a cold truth upsetting his stomach that would never truly go away. It stopped him from actually accepting Ren’s apology and promising to forget all previous indiscretions, to scrub the slate clean and return to how they were.

Hux couldn’t do that. Not yet. What's more, Ren still didn’t deserve it.

But as he stroked and hushed the unstable brute in his arms, Hux decided he’d like to see just how far the Supreme Leader would go to try to earn his forgiveness.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still kind of struggling with fic. I've been having a lot of self-confidence issues since the end of April that have really kind of hit me hard. I'll try to push past them, but it's been really difficult :c I hope I can get over this hurdle soon. 
> 
> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://thethespacecoyote.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heir_of_breath7/).


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